


I'll Be Thelma

by mediumrawr



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: F/F, Friends With Benefits, Fugitive, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediumrawr/pseuds/mediumrawr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Bo dances on her feet impatiently, watching the open door, while her best friend cracks stupid jokes and tries different keys on her manacles. If she had been told two years ago this was where they were going to end up, Bo doesn't think she would have been at all surprised.</em>
</p><p><em>Then she is loose and, without even a moment's hesitation, she has taken Kenzi's cheeks in her hands and pressed their lips together - and Kenzi puts her hands on Bo's arms, but she doesn't </em>quite<em> push them away, and she <em>doesn't</em> quite close her mouth either when Bo's tongue begins to search inside (though her eyes do bug out and she does make a pretty hilarious squeaking noise).</em></p><p>Two very strange girls go on the run. And have sex.</p><p>For Porn Battle XIV: <em>shower, weekends, friends with benefits, DarkBo, fae, feed, thrall</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Thelma

**Author's Note:**

> Contains violence (though how graphic is, I think, a matter of opinion) and implied character death.

God, _so_ boring. The least they could do is let her watch TV or something. She's not picky. She doesn't need cable. She doesn't even need a remote. Daytime infomercials would be better than this.

There's nothing here to play with but herself, and, to be honest, she never really saw the point. Not without someone watching, anyway. It's pretty good when someone watches. At first, she thought there might be a camera or something in the cell with her, but apparently she's had no such luck.

She's started doing really amazing numbers of pushups. Basically, pushups until she passes out. It's a twofer - passes time doing pushups, then passes more time passed out. And sometimes she gets meals, and they let her play around with her food for an hour or so before they take the tray away again.

Mostly she lays on her cot and tries not to think too much.

Someone beyond the cell door shouts "Hey!"

Bo looks up from her cot. Then she hears a _very_ familiar clicking sound, and then the equally familiar sound of a limp body dropping to the floor. The door opens and she sees her hero dressed in ridiculous goth camo and smeared with face paint. She smiles, relieved.

"Kenzi," she says.

Kenzi brandishes her taser in one hand and, in the other, the guard's keyring. "Liberated these from Sleepy," she says. "We'd better get moving. I have no idea how long he's going to stay down."

Bo holds up her shackled hands.

"Oh, right."

Bo dances on her feet impatiently, watching the open door, while her best friend cracks stupid jokes and tries different keys on her manacles. If she had been told two years ago this was where they were going to end up, Bo doesn't think she would have been at all surprised.

Then she is loose and, without even a moment's hesitation, she has taken Kenzi's cheeks in her hands and pressed their lips together - and Kenzi puts her hands on Bo's arms, but she doesn't _quite_ push them away, and she doesn't _quite_ close her mouth either when Bo's tongue begins to search inside (though her eyes do bug out and she does make a pretty hilarious squeaking noise).

Eventually, the heady mix of gratitude, relief, and pleasure fades, and Bo comes back to reality. She pulls away.

"Sorry," she says. "That was a little much, wasn't it?"

"Just a little," says Kenzi, who is touching her fingers to her lips. "But you got game, girl. I'll just say."

They run laughing.

When Kenzi steals cars, she doesn't mess around. Bo's no expert, but she recognizes a Jag when she sees one. She's busy admiring the leather seats and the new aftermarket CD player, but something in Kenzi's voice gets her attention when she says, "There's a bunch of your clothes in the back. Not that you don't rock the prison jumpsuit look - again - but maybe something a little lower profile?"

Bo looks back at the mess in the back seat - shopping bags stuffed with clothes and knick-knacks - and starts to get an uncomfortable idea. She looks at the unfamiliar road in front of them. "Kenzi, where are we going?"

"Yeah." Kenzi glances at her from the driver's seat. "That was sort of the deal. I get to break you out and then we both get way out of Dodge."

"Hold on. What deal?"

Kenzi's jaw clenched.

"Kenzi? Deal with who?"

"Dyson. Okay, look." Kenzi started to gesticulate as she explained. "That was the deal. I believe you, you know I believe you. And Trick helped. And... Vex helped. But we needed Dyson to help get me in."

"And Dyson just wanted me gone."

Kenzi did not deny that. Very pointedly.

So Bo took a second to process that, and that said, "I can't process this right now. Um. I'm sure you made the best of the situation, and that situation's totally not your fault."

Her best friend's sigh of relief was welcome. Kenzi gave her a tight smile and went back to the road.

"Ugh," says Bo suddenly, adjusting so she can climb into the backseat. "You were right about this jumpsuit. Orange is so not me. And you should probably wipe off that stuff on your face."

She unbuttons the top and pulls her arms from it and the car swerves suddenly. She catches herself against the door and looks back at Kenzi who, she realizes, is staring at her in the rear-view mirror.

"You need to pull over while I do this?" she asks.

"Nope. No. No, I'm good. I am good."

Bo decides to take that at face value and proceeds to rummage through the bags and piles until she finds a respectable black shirt and a pair of jeans. She slips on the shirt and then progresses to pull off the jumpsuit, one leg at a time. By the time she's buttoning up her jeans, she's wriggling around a bit more than necessary, just to give Kenzi a show. She'd have to wait on changing her underwear, though, for the sake of saving both their lives.

Kenzi sighs when she finishes, and then says, "Bo? What are we doing?"

"We'll figure that out when we get where we're going - which, speaking of, where are we going?"

"You remember my cousin Manya?"

* * *

Bo does not remember Kenzi's cousin Manya because, she is pretty sure, Kenzi has never mentioned her. Apparently she has come into a little bit of money and now has a spare room which she can provide as repayment for some kind of favor Kenzi has once done and now does not want to talk about.

The room is not so big, and there is only the one bed, and Manya, who is plainly lying about her age when she says she's twenty-four, is quiet and hard-bitten and may only speak broken English. It's, amazingly, a step down from the crack den, but Kenzi seems perfectly comfortable and Bo quashes her discomfort. As soon as they're alone in their room, though, Bo says, "When you said Manya came into some money, what exac-"

"Woah there, Bo-bo. Manya didn't ask why we needed a free room for a while, get me?"

Bo realizes, suddenly, that they're in Kenzi's world now. Kenzi's world means not trying to fix other people's situations for them. "Right. I'm starving. Where can we go for dinner?"

"I know just the place," said Kenzi.

 _Just the place_ turns out to be an A &W. Bo doesn't exactly feel treated, but Kenzi insists that Bo will finish at least one Grandpa Burger to celebrate her release. And, after prison food, a real fake burger _is_ delicious. But, "I don't mean to worry you," Bo has to warn Kenzi, "But what about my _other_ kind of eating?"

"Way to cut right to the point there. I was thinking, you know, we could do a trial run, see if your landing gear matches my runway-"

"I didn't mean you," Bo interrupts. Kenzi shuts up. "I mean, if you're in for this, I'm in. But I don't think that's going to be enough. Before Dyson, I was - " Bo cuts herself off, seeing the other patrons.

"I remember," says Kenzi. "They weren't letting you get your mojo jojo on much in lockup, huh."

"No."

"Well... what you were doing before? Just with people who really deserve it?"

Bo stares down at the crumbs that remain of her meal. She doesn't want to go back to being the person she was before she met Kenzi and Dyson and Trick - and Lauren. She manages one fragile nod.

Kenzi leans over the table suddenly and kisses her, open-mouthed and with plenty of tongue, and Bo's forgotten her problems and moved on to returning it eagerly before she's even conscious of what's happened. When Kenzi pulls back, they're both short of breath. "Do you remember what I said when we met?

"Something about catching asthma."

"I said you were the toughest kid on the playground. We been on a lot of playgrounds, and honey? You were the toughest kid on every one. We'll make this work."

"Okay," says Bo. Other customers are watching them now, but honestly Bo just finds that hot.

"Let's go home," says Kenzi. They can't go home, of course - Bo's starting to thing they'll never go home again - but she takes her meaning. And if Kenzi really does want to give this thing between them a go... Bo's starting to think that distracting herself in the sounds of Kenzi's passion might not be such a bad way to go.

They head back to the car.

Bo takes an improvisational approach to sex, and she's very good at improvising. Sometimes she sees a bowl of peaches or an especially sturdy desk and knows how a particular encounter is going to go, in the broad outlines, and fills in the in-between strokes, long and hard or fast and shallow, as she goes along. She doesn't know how tonight's going to go until the moment she closes their bedroom door, turns, and sees Kenzi standing there fidgeting with her hands.

"It's okay," she tells her friend. "I'll start."

And she does. She takes off her leather jacket first, letting it pool on the ground behind her, and then reaches for the hem of her shirt. When it comes free from her head, she shakes her hair out as sensually as she can, and when she drops the shirt behind her she brings her hands back to stroke her own skin, so Kenzi can appreciate the shape of her body and the way the dim light plays on her skin. And Kenzi does appreciate it, by the way her own hands have come to rest on the edges of her clothing.

Bo unzips her jeans one millimetre at a time, bucking her hips subtly into the pressure it generates. She has to bend over to pull them off, so she gives Kenzi a fantastic chance to look right down her cleavage as she does. And when she's done, when she steps out of them and into Kenzi's personal space, she's wearing only her bra and panties.

It's not naked, but she thinks it's close enough for now, and she wants to move things along.

"You're really hot," Kenzi says.

Bo can't resist a kiss at that, and then she says, "Tonight, all this is yours. Now let's get you naked."

"Now you're talking," Kenzi says, already stripping out of her jacket. As she gets to her shirt, Bo helps her with her boots (because Kenzi prefers to tramp around in them obnoxiously instead of _taking them off at the door like a civilized person_ ) and throws them aside, one by one, and then helps her drag those ridiculous fake combat pants off and snorts at the hot pink panties underneath them.

"Really?"

Kenzi reaches down just to waggle a finger in her face. "Yeah - I did not just hear the Queen of the Shredded Thone judge someone else's fashion choices."

"Never." Bo hooks her fingers in the top of the garish garments. "May I?"

"Go for it."

She decides not to rip them off, mostly because neither of them are currently employed, and instead slips them off as speedily as she can. She's more interested in Kenzi's pussy, which she gives a long lick just to get Kenzi's motor running.

Then she stands abruptly. She tells Kenzi, "Lie down."

Kenzi leaps without looking, as usual, and lands splayed out on the mattress. Bo smiles. She takes two confident, swaggering steps and then slides forward until she covers Kenzi's skin with her own flesh. She kisses Kenzi's forehead first - a friendly kiss - and then she kisses the tip of Kenzi's nose - a funny kiss - and then she kisses Kenzi's lips - a romantic kiss - and then she kisses Kenzi's throat, and that one's a lover's kiss. Her friend, shifting under her, gathers her hair up in her hands like a model from the fifties.

The hair thing gives her an idea so, as she kisses her way down between Kenzi's breasts, she allows her hair to fan out onto her lover's body.

"Where'd you learn your moves, a porn studio?" Kenzi asks, but her voice quivers as she says it. Bo twists Kenzi's nipple in retaliation.

"Tell me what you like," Bo says.

"You're the Vag Whisperer, you figure it out."

"Not for me. For you." It's not just that it's hot, the part that Bo knows Kenzi will figure out. It's also that she wants Kenzi to feel in control of the situation. That's the only way the frightened girl under all that sass and armor will ever be okay with this.

Bo doesn't think that Kenzi notices, judging by the ease of Kenzi's smile, and all the smaller woman says is, "Don't tell anyone, but my stomach is, like, super-sensitive."

Bo kisses Kenzi's stomach and watches it quiver in response. It's neither the fittest nor the skinniest she's ever seen, but it belongs to her friend and her friend is aroused for her, and that meets Bo's limited criteria. She shifts to kiss directly onto Kenzi's stomach, and then gives up on the lips and goes over the tiny depression with her tongue.

Kenzi gasps emphatically and Bo, surprised at the sound, looks up to see Kenzi staring down at her with huge gaping eyes.

Bo enjoys that reaction enough to do that trick one more time. "What else?"

"Um. I'm a simple girl. You know..."

Feeling the realization dawning on her own face, Bo says, "No one's ever done this for you before."

"Hey, my boyfriends are premium. Just a little..."

"Straightforward," says Bo. "Come on, there must be something. When you're wasting all the hot water for a little privacy with yourself? Something you like to do?"

"My fingers," Kenzi blurts. "When I'm hot like this, it's like I feel them more."

"Hmm," says Bo. She takes one of Kenzi's hands in hers and brings it to her mouth and kisses the pad of her index finger. "Like that?"

"More," the smaller woman demanded.

Bo took that finger into her mouth all at once - sucking the whole thing into her mouth and brushing her lips against the knuckle at the base and swirling her tongue around it. Kenzi nodded at her to continue, so Bo began to bob on it, giving it all the attention of a pretty fantastic blowjob, and then she added a second finger.

"You're going to kill me," Kenzi forced out. Her voice was hoarse. "I'm going to die tonight."

Bo let her laugh vibrate Kenzi's digits, let that feeling shut Kenzi up, an then she pulled away. She held Kenzi's hand in hers as she slid up to loom again completely over her friend's body. Then she put that hand right between her legs.

Shifting her hips to press into it, Bo said, "You feel how warm that is? That's for you, Kenz."

Bold Kenzi and her dextrous fingers are inside the panties in a second and feeling on the skin. Kenzi's fingers spread her lips and begin to probe, more daring than Bo would have guessed.

In reward, Bo arches down to mouth at Kenzi's breast. She lets her own hand touch Kenzi's wet slit, trying to mirror her friend's actions.

Kenzi pushes one finger shallowly inside Bo; Bo pushes one shallowly inside Kenzi (and grazes her teeth on Kenzi's nipple - so sue her). Kenzi arches. 

Kenzi's thumb clumsily finds Bo's clit; Bo's thumb finds (with perhaps a little more elegance) Kenzi's. "Oh," says Kenzi, breaking the moment's quiet.

"Keep talking," Bo says.

Kenzi shifts her finger to slide deeper. Bo smiles and does the same. "Wha - what about?" asks Kenzi.

"How do you feel?"

"Oh - hot." Kenzi, figuring out the game, pushes a second finger in next to the first, and groans at the reciprocation. "Hot, you know, but also - you know, hot."

"What?"

They start to stroke each other, in and out, thumbs just brushing each other's clits. "You're a, you know, pansexual lust Jesus. And you're into me."

They curl their fingers. "In more ways than one," says Bo.

"You're awful," Kenzi says. She presses down on Bo's clit, and Bo presses down on hers, and the thing Kenzi is about to say is lost in a choked scream.

"What?" says Bo, who has always been pretty good at keeping her head even when her own body, as it is now, is requesting release.

"Flattering," says Kenzi. "Bo-bo, God, I need-"

But Bo's already figured it out, pressed down on Kenzi's clit, curled her fingers inside Kenzi, and clenched down around Kenzi's fingers. All that comes out of Kenzi's _need_ is her long scream.

The smaller woman is shaking and coming and still screaming, but Bo is still riding her fingers until release finally comes for her too, and she sighs and falls down on the bed beside her new, old, partner.

Kenzi murmurs, "Good trial run," and curls into her and seems to doze, but Bo's eyes are open and she thinks she knows what color she would see in them if she had a mirror. The urge to feed on this little vivacious woman, to end her hunger, is so strong. It's not overwhelming yet, but she knows it will only get stronger until she does something about it.

The next morning, Manya gives her a steady, unimpressed stare across the breakfast table.

"Sorry?" Bo tries. "It's... new. We'll be more considerate."

Kenzi comes in from their bedroom, bewigged and dressed. "Come on, babe. Boots on; we're going out."

"Out where?"

"Not here's where. It's Sunday morning, and do I look like Anne Frank? We're going living."

Manya interrupts, saying, in a bitten-off tone, "Zinaida."

Kenzi stops and looks at her, and there follows a brief conversation in Russian. In the hall, Bo asks, "What was that about?"

"She thinks I have good taste," says Kenzi.

"Duh. What did she call you? Zin- something? Is that Russian for 'cousin'?"

"Not exactly," Kenzi says, and doesn't elaborate. Bo takes that as a sign to drop the subject, and does.

Bo feels old skills waking as she walks - the ability to automatically chart the fastest way out of a new city, for example, or the sense of where the police cars are densest. Kenzi takes her to the mall cafeteria, and explains. "We have two problems. There's your sucky suck-face thing and there's us being broke. And since Hale and the Morrigan are both looking for us, dead bodies and steady jobs are both out."

All this is said over chicken tenders and soda. "You're a real upper, you know that?"

"But honey, we have two things going for us. We have me, master thief extraordinaire, and we have your pretty face. So I figure, as long as we're careful, we can take a little chi and a little cash at a time. So long as we don't hit the same place too many times, don't go for any big scores, we're solid."

The grift they work out turns out to be pretty simple. Bo plays the victim of some mistreatment - a bad breakup, sometimes, or her own clumsiness, and begs for aid. That moment of aid is just a pretext for them to have a powerful emotional connection - what their mark thinks is an emotional connection, anyway - and they spend hours together, learning about each other. By the time Bo reveals that her abusive ex-boyfriend is a cop, her target trusts her too much to doubt her. By the end of it, if Bo's done it perfectly, it's her target who pulls her out into an alley or a bathroom and makes out with her.

An hour later, when the sex is over, their clothes, scattered behind them, have been ransacked. Bo has a convincing meltdown. She can't go to the police, she says - her boyfriend will find out where she is. You can't tell them, please, she begs - do you have to make a report? Can you tell them you were mugged or something? I'm sorry, she cries, I can't - I have to go.

And then her mark never sees her again.

Bo's so good at getting a lover to strip that they don't just get cash - they get watches, jewelry... an eight hundred dollar pair of black designer riding boots that Bo refuses to fence, and takes to wearing around even though it kind of blows her cover.

Kenzi's the one who slows them down - Bo takes to it so well she wants to pull it several times a day, and it has to be explained to her that a sudden surge in 'muggings' centered around Manya's two-bedroom apartment will draw a lot of the kind of attention they don't want. And she's the one who has to stop Bo from picking married marks, as much as she says she believes Bo could pull it off.

By Friday night, though, Kenzi's insistent they take the weekend off. They're doing fine on cash, so long as Manya doesn't suddenly demand rent, so Bo agrees. The whole night, Kenzi makes increasingly obvious suggestions that she would really like some hot loving, but Bo finds herself exhausted after the activity of her days, the new typical activity of her evenings, and her fitful nights.

On Saturday morning, Bo gives up on sleep at four in the morning. She disentangles herself from Kenzi (who is incredibly possessive in her sleep) and from the sheets and heads out to the bathroom for a shower. She nearly leaps out of her skin when, a moment later, Kenzi joins her.

"Jesus," she gasps, "You're quiet sometimes."

Kenzi smiles gleefully. "I know, I'm like a hot ninja. With more style. Now turn around - I'm going to wash your hair."

The succubus accepts that, turning away from the showerhead to give Kenzi access.

"You want to say why you've suddenly turned into a super-early riser since we sprung you from lockup?"

"I didn't think you'd noticed."

"Well, I noticed. Speak up."

Bo finds it hard to shutter herself up with hands running like that across her scalp. She is pretty sure Kenzi orchestrated this whole thing for that purpose, but it's also hard to be angry about that. "I have nightmares."

"What about?"

"I don't really remember. There are flashes - "

When she stops, Kenzi reacts by pulling Bo's body back against her own so they're pressed together under the shower spray.

"Kenzi, you believe in me, right?"

"You know I do, baby."

"Good." Bo says. She reaches up to hold one of Kenzi's soapy hands against her scalp - but she still can't face her. "When I remember those flashes, when I really focus so I can see what they are... I'm not sure I believe in myself."

"I know, Bo. But that's the thing." Kenzi brings her free hand down to map the back of Bo's ear. "I know you. We're besties, remember?"

Bo shivers as the hand trails down the back of her neck and onto her shoulders, nails just grazing each plot of skin it touches.

"Maybe I'm still learning about, you know, how hot your back looks like this, completely bare and all this water running down it. Which is really hot, by the way." Bo feels the kiss on her upper back and then, with a gasp, the hard bite that follows in the same spot. "But I've been your friend for three years, and I know who you are. And I know you have a good heart."

And when Kenzi punctuates that by putting her hand over Bo's left breast, Bo mostly believes her. Most people don't understand the way that this sexuality consumes her identity, but Kenzi undestands - Kenzi accepts it and now Kenzi is using it to make this point, and that makes her believe - and it also makes her hot.

"Keep going," Bo says.

"Um - that was all I had planned. You're... a very nice person?"

"Not that." Bo pointedly shifts her chest against Kenzi's hand.

"Oh, that. That I can do."

Kenzi's other hand cups Bo's other breast, and Bo leans back into Kenzi until Kenzi backs into the shower wall and supports Bo's weight, and Kenzi kneads Bo's breasts while Bo moans her pleasure.

"Like that, baby?"

"Anything, Kenz. Just... keep going."

She lets Kenzi circle her breasts and count her ribs and use her fingers to spread each of her lips and stroke her, chasing the doubts away with every motion.

"This is you," Kenzi says. "Say it for me."

"Me," Bo says, riding Kenzi's fingers.

"Say it, babe."

"Me," Bo says, louder, and Kenzi adds her third finger and pushes back in so far it is nearly all Bo can feel.

Kenzi starts to stroke her clit. "Shout it for me."

"Me," she says, as loud as she can.

"I said shout," Kenzi says, and she does _something_ amazing on Bo's clit.

"Me!" she shouts, her voice echoing off the shower walls, as the force of her orgasm drives her doubts into the most hidden nooks of her mind. The hunger is there, strong as ever, but she tells herself that she has it under control.

When she leaves the shower, dressed only in a towel, Manya gives her a thoroughly displeased glare from her seat at the breakfast table.

"Sorry," Bo tries. She feels a little guilty - after a week together, she still knows nothing about Manya besides her name and her fictional age, except that she seems to leave early every day and not come back until the evening, as if she has a normal person's job - but mostly she's starting to worry if she and Kenzi are wearing out their welcome. 

If they do have to get out of town, it wouldn't be that hard for Bo to convince a real estate agent to put her up in an empty property. She's done it before, though it had ended badly when it turned out he had an incredibly possessive wife.

* * *

When she wakes up again that night when it's still not light out, the first thing Bo thinks is she's had another nightmare. But Kenzi's up too, and she can still hear pounding on, she thinks, the front door.

"The hell?" she says, shoving away the covers. "Who the hell-"

Kenzi grabs her arm. "Don't."

"What?"

"This is not our house. This is Manya's apartment, so Manya answers the door."

They wait in silence while the mystery stranger pounds at the door. Bo knows Kenzi is wondering the same thing as she - is it one of Hale's men, or the Morrigan's, and can Manya be trusted to keep their presence a secret even in the face of what a Fae can do? Both their scents are all over that apartment. They've met Fae who could hear their beating hearts from just this distance, through all these walls. They've met Fae who would, on the slim chance she might know something about their loation, torture Manya to death and leave smiling.

At last they hear Manya's feet treading across the floor. The locks click, the knob turns - and the door slams open. A male voice shouts something in Russian. Manya says something in a quieter voice - what even Bo can tell is shushing - and when the male voice responds it is a few decibels quieter and just as urgent.

"What's going on?" she whispers to Kenzi.

"Sounds like a boyfriend."

The boyfriend hasn't stopped going on about whatever it is. Manya gets in every so often with some kind of barb, but the boyfriend just runs right over them with his ranting. Bo gives Kenzi a look, but Kenzi shakes her head. Bo tries to remind herself: Kenzi's world means not trying to fix other people's situations for them.

Then they hear the crack.

"What was that?"

Even in the dark, Kenzi's widened eyes are easily visible. "I don't know."

Bo rolls off the bed, grabbing the nightshirt on the floor as she goes. She pulls it over her head, then whispers, "I'm going to just check."

She opens the bedroom door, just a crack... and she sees Manya on the ground, her cheek badly gashed, scrambling away from her boyfriend on all fours.

Before she even knows it, Bo is out the door, stalking across the length of the apartment to him. Manya sees her, but the boyfriend is too lost in his abuse to notice until the succubus grabs his shoulder, spins him around, and puts her lips to his.

It feels so good to simply take. She doesn't have to control it, channel it, or ever stop. This worm deserves to get stomped, and she's going to enjoy it. She enjoys the way he melts into it at first. She enjoys the first signs of confusion. She enjoys how he starts to try to struggle when his strength has already failed him.

"Bo, stop!"

She cuts off, holding the scum up by his neck while she turns to see Kenzi, wearing only her own grossly oversized t-shirt, standing in the bedroom door.

"You kill him and there'll be Fae all over this place by tomorrow."

"We'll leave," Bo says, and she can hear an otherworldly quality echoing in her voice.

Kenzi must hear it too, because she looks frightened. "This is Manya's apartment. That's Manya's boyfriend. You know what they'll do to her."

"We'll take her with us."

"She didn't ask for that - "

"I could make her ask!"

Kenzi stops talking for a moment. Her eyes shine with something. She gathers herself, and then she says, "I don't want you to do that."

"I could make you beg for it."

"You won't."

Bo pauses. She feels all-powerful and free. The grown man in her grip is as light as a newborn. She can have anything she wants in the world. Everything about it seems wrong. "Oh?"

"No. Because you love me."

Bo starts laughing, but Kenzi just steps forward and points a finger at her.

"Okay, maybe not like that. But you love me like a friend - like the best friend you've ever had. And that means more to you than who's in your bed. And you know that's true."

That... actually... she does want to kill Kenzi for interrupting her feed, but mostly in an affectionate my-friend-has-crappy-timing way. And even now... all this power flowing through her... even this incredibly version of her is still desperate for the approval of the first person who ever loved her for who she was.

"Fine," she growls. She turns back to the asshole in her hand, pulsing energy back into him. "Do you want to make me happy?"

He nods furiously.

"Did you drive here?"

He nods again.

"Good. I want you to get in your car and head out of town. I want you to find a nice high ditch or a cliff or a bridge. I want you to take off your seatbelt, and then I want you to drive over the edge at at least a hundred KPH. Can you do that for me?"

The dickwad, nodding, seems to think he's a virgin who just scored a night with the prom queen.

"Good," Bo says, enjoying the way the syllable feels in her new voice, and releases him. "Now go."

They watch him leave, and the door shuts behind him, and then Bo smiles at Kenzi. "This is your mess now," she says, and passes out.

She wakes up later, her head pounding, and is somewhat surprised by the strange looks Manya gives her and the way that Kenzi hovers over her and asks her awkward questions. The most awkward question is "Do you remember anything?" because the answer is familiar - only flashes.


End file.
